MR. BRADY FORGETS
THAT afternoon Don's knowledge stood him in good stead, for with more
than half the first-string players excused from practice, his services
were called on at the start, and, with McPhee and Cotter running the
squad, the signal drill was long and thorough. Harry Walton viewed Don's
advent with disfavour. That was apparent to Don and anyone else who
thought of the matter, although he pretended a good-natured indifference
that wasn't at all deceiving. Don more than once caught his rival
observing him with resentment and dislike, and, remembering that Harry
Walton had been a witness of his unconventional return to hall that
night, he experienced misgivings. Of course, Harry wouldn't "peach,"
but--well, Don again wished anyone rather than Harry had stumbled on the
secret.
But he didn't have much time for worrying about that matter, for Coach
Robey went after them hard that day. In the practice game with the
second team Don started at left guard and played the position until
within a few minutes of the whistle. Then Harry Walton, who had been
disgruntledly adorning the bench, took his place. He didn't look at Don
as he accepted the latter's head-guard, but Don was well aware that
Harry felt anything but good-will for him. Naturally enough, Harry had,
Don reflected, expected to step into Gafferty's place without opposition
when news of the extent of the latter's injury had become known, and it
was undoubtedly a big disappointment to him to discover that he had to
fight a new opponent. Don could sympathise with Harry, for he had
endured disappointments himself during his brief football career, but it
is difficult to sympathise very enthusiastically when the subject of
your sympathy shows his dislike for you, and Don metaphorically shrugged
his shoulders as he trotted up to the gymnasium.
"It isn't my fault," he said to himself. "I didn't bust Joe Gafferty's
rib and I'm not responsible for Robey's taking me on the first team.
Walton will just have to make the best of it."
Don couldn't flatter himself that he had played that afternoon with
especial brilliancy, although he had managed to hold his end up fairly
well. The fact was that he had been so intent on getting speeded into
his performance that he had rather skimped the niceties of line-play.
And he wasn't at all certain that he had shown any more speed than
usual, either. He awaited Mr. Robey's appearance in the locker-room with
some apprehension, certain that if he had erred badly he would soon
learn of it. When the coach did arrive at the tail of the procession of
panting players and said his say without once singling out Don for
special attention, the latter was relieved. He couldn't, he told
himself, have done so very badly, after all!
Tom walked back to Billings with Don to learn the result of Tim's and
Clint's embassy to the Cedar Ridge Poultry Farm, for the two had
obtained leave of absence from Mr. Robey and had set forth on their
journey the minute a three o'clock recitation was finished. Tim wasn't
in Number 6 when they reached it, but he and Clint tramped in soon
after, dusty and weary but evidently triumphant. Tim narrated their
experiences.
"Missed the three-fifty car, just as I told Clint we would if he didn't
hustle----"
"I had to find a cap to wear, didn't I?" interpolated Clint.
"Well, we found the place all right, fellows, and, say, it's some
poultry farm, believe me, dearies! Isn't it corking, Clint?"
Clint grunted assent, stretching tired legs across the floor.
"There's about a thousand acres of it, I guess, and a mile of red
chicken houses and runs, or whatever you call 'em. How many hens and
things did he tell us he had, Clint?"
"Eighteen hundred, I think. Maybe it was eighteen thousand. I don't
remember. All I know is there were chickens as far as you could see, and
then some."
"Never mind the descriptive matter," urged Tom. "What did he say? Had
Josh been at him? Did he promise----"
"I'm coming to that, dearie. When we found him he was doing something to
that car of his in a cute little garage. And, say, it's an
eight-cylinder Lothrop, and a regular jim-dandy! Well, he took us into
his house first----"
Tom groaned in despair.
"----And fed us on crackers and cake and ginger ale. Say, he's got a
peach of a bungalow there; small but entire; and a cute little Jap who
cooks and looks after things for him. Well, then he took us out and
showed us around the place. Chickens! Gee, I didn't know there were so
many in the world! And we saw the incubators and the--what you call
them--brooders, and----"
"For the love of mud!" exclaimed Tom. "Can't you get down to dots? _Is
it all right or isn't it?_"
Tim smiled exasperatingly. "Then he showed us----"
Tom arose to his feet and took a step toward him.
"It's all right," said Tim hurriedly. "Everything, Thomas! We told him
what was up and how we didn't want Josh to find out it was us who
attended Mr. Corrigan's fire party and asked him if he would please not
remember what we looked like if Josh asked him. And he said----"
"He laughed," interrupted Clint, and chuckled himself.
"That's right! He laughed a lot. 'You're a little bit late,' he said.
'Mr. Fernald called me up by telephone nearly a week ago, fellows, and
wanted to know all about it.' 'You didn't tell him?' I yelped. 'No, I
couldn't,' he said. 'You see, you hadn't told me your names, and it was
pretty dark that night and somehow or other I just couldn't seem to
recall what you looked like! Mr. Fernald sounded considerably
disappointed and like he didn't quite believe me, but that can't be
helped.' Say, fellows, I wanted to hug him! Or--or buy an egg or
something! Honest, I did! He's all right, what?"
"He's a corker!" said Tom, sighing with relief. "You don't suppose
Corrigan or any of the others there that night would remember us, do
you?"
"Not likely. Mr. Brady didn't think so, anyway."
"Then it's all to the merry!" cried Tom. "Gee, but that's a load off my
mind!"
"Off your what?" asked Tim curiously.
"It's all right if Harry Walton keeps quiet," said Don. "If he gets to
talking----"
"If he does I'll beat him up," said Tim earnestly. "But he won't. He
wouldn't be such a snip, in the first place, and he wouldn't dare to in
the second."
"N-no, I guess not," agreed Don. But his tone didn't hold much
conviction. "Only, if----"
"I'll tell you fellows one thing," announced Tom vehemently.
"Don't strain yourself," advised Tim.
"And that," continued the other, scowling at the interruption, "is that
no one gets me into any more scrapes until after the Claflin game!"
"Gee, to hear you talk," exclaimed Tim indignantly, "anyone would think
we'd tied you up with a rope and forcibly abducted you! Who's idea was
it, anyway, to go to the village that night?"
"Yours, if you want to know! I don't say I didn't go along willingly
enough, Tim. What I do say is--_never again_! Anyway," he added, "not
until football's over!"
Morgan's School, which had defeated Brimfield the year before, 6 to 3,
came and departed. Brimfield took the visitor's measure this time, and,
although she only scored one touchdown and failed to kick goal, the
contest was far less close and interesting than the score would suggest.
Brimfield played the opponents to a standstill in the first half and
scored just before the end of it. In the third quarter Coach Robey began
substituting and when the last ten minutes started the Maroon-and-Grey
had only three first-string fellows in her line-up. The substitutes
played good football and, while not able to push the pigskin across
Morgan's line, twice reached her fifteen yards and twice tried and
narrowly missed a goal from the field.
On the whole it could not be said that Brimfield's performance that
blustery Saturday afternoon was impressive, for she was frequently
caught napping on the defensive, showed periods of apathy and did more
fumbling, none of which resulted disastrously, than she should have.
Tim Otis had a remarkably good day and was undeniably the best man in
the backfield for the home team. Carmine played a heady, snappy game,
and Don, who played the most of three quarters at left guard, conducted
himself very well. Don's work was never of the spectacular sort, but at
his best he was a steady and thoroughly reliable lineman and very
effective on defence. He was still slow in getting into plays, a fact
which made him of less value than Joe Gafferty on attack. Even Harry
Walton showed up better than Don when Brimfield had the ball. But
neither Gafferty nor Walton was as strong on defence as Don.
Walton had been very earnestly striving all the week to capture the
guard position, but the fact that Don had been played through most of
the Morgan's game indicated that the latter was as yet a slight
favourite in Coach Robey's estimation. During the week succeeding the
Morgan's game the two rivals kept at it nip and tuck, and their
team-mates looked on with interest. At practice Mr. Robey showed no
favour to either, and each came in for his full share of criticism, but
when, the next Saturday, the team journeyed away from home and played
Cherry Valley, it was again Don who started the game between Thayer and
Thursby and who remained in the line-up until the fourth period, by
which time Brimfield had piled up the very satisfactory score of
twenty-six points. In the final five minutes Cherry Valley managed to
fool the visitors and get a forward pass off for a gain that placed the
ball on Brimfield's fourteen yards, and from there her drop-kicker put
the pigskin over the cross-bar and tallied three points. The game was
uninteresting unless one was a partisan, and even then there were few
thrills. Brimfield played considerably better than in the Morgan's game
and emerged with no more important damages than a wrenched ankle, which
fell to the share of Martin, who had taken Rollins's place in the last
period.
Joe Gafferty came back to practice the following Monday, but was missing
again a day or two later, and the school heard with some dismay that
Joe's parents had written to Mr. Fernald and forbidden Joe to play any
more football that year. Joe was inconsolable and went around for the
next week or so looking like a lost soul. After that he accepted the
situation and helped Mr. Boutelle coach the second. That second had by
that time been shaken together into a very capable and smooth-running
team, a team which was giving the first more and more trouble every
day. Coach Robey had again levied on it for a player, taking Merton to
the first when Gafferty was lost to him, and again Mr. Boutelle growled
and protested and, finally, philosophically shrugged his shoulders. A
week later Merton was released to the second once more and Pryme, who
had been playing at right guard as a substitute for Tom Hall, was tried
out on the other side of centre with good results. Pryme's advent as a
contender for the left guard position complicated the battle between Don
and Harry Walton, and until after the Southby game the trio of
candidates indulged in a three-cornered struggle that was quite pretty
to watch.
Unfortunately for Don, that struggle for supremacy threatened to affect
his class standing, for it occupied so much of his thought that there
was little left for study. When, however, the office dropped a hint and
Mr. Daley presented an ultimatum, Don realised that he was taking
football far too seriously, and, being a rather level-headed youth, he
mended his ways. He expected, as a result, to find himself left behind
in the race with Walton and Pryme, but, oddly enough, his game was in no
degree affected so far as he could determine. In fact, within a few days
the situation was simplified by the practical elimination of Pryme as a
contender. This happened when, just before the Southby game, Tom Hall,
together with eight other members of Mr. Moller's physics class went on
probation, and Pryme was needed at right guard.
I have mentioned Tom's probation very casually, quite as if it was a
matter of slight importance, but you may be sure that the school viewed
it in no such way. Coming as it did little more than a fortnight before
the big game, it was looked on as a dire catastrophe, no more and no
less; and the school, which had laughed and chuckled over the incident
which had caused the catastrophe, and applauded the participants in it,
promptly turned their thumbs down when the effect became known and
indignantly dubbed the affair "silly kid's play" and blamed Tom very
heartily. How much of the blame he really deserved you shall judge for
yourself, but the affair merits a chapter of its own.